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She slept with princes and pianists, Wall Street traders and moguls. And though Rebecca Woodard doesn’t name any of her johns in her memoir, “Call Girl Confidential,” except for Eliot Spitzer, she does provide a number of clues.

Can you name any of her clients?

An Orthodox Jewish client would search the room, checking under the bed and the closet to make sure no one knew he was there. Once, he spent the entire hour searching the apartment and they never had sex. “Best client ever to have,” Woodard writes.

A “famous classical pianist” would call on her every time he played Carnegie Hall. Once, he asked for as many girls as possible to be sent to his hotel room. They were told to dress in bikinis and lie on blankets on the floor pretending to sunbathe. He wore only a towel and would swat their bottoms with another, chase them around and watch them jump up and down on the bed with their tops off. Finally, they had to chase him and take off his towel. “I suppose everyone has their own fantasy.”

A Middle Eastern prince who stayed at The Plaza hotel was depressed because he wasn’t in line for the throne. He did so much cocaine that he couldn’t perform.

“A major capitalist on a global scale” who “sits on several corporate boards” rented an apartment for her. Once, they flew on his private Gulfstream jet to Europe to look at a castle. “What do you think?” he asked. “Should I buy it?”

A “major financier” who bore some responsibility for the 2008 financial crash flew her to Tokyo so she could tie him to a headboard and put clothespins on his member. “The more aroused he got, the more I punished him.” He paid Woodard $25,000. But after two years, he asked her, “Would you be able to get me a young boy?” She refused, told him to get help and wouldn’t see him again.

The successful owner of a nightclub, “Steve,” who rubbed elbows with celebs and athletes. In a luxury suite at a Knicks game, Woodard pretended to be a spoiled princess and asked for an autographed ball from a player. “Just as the third quarter began, in walked a team rep and handed me an autographed ball. Steve was sending me the message that I could have whatever I wanted.”

A “well-known media executive” threw a party at the Waldorf Astoria because a number of the people there “were being inducted as ambassadors to the UN for something the next day and this was a mini celebration, without their wives and girlfriends.” But no one had sex with her, so the exec refused to pay. Woodard said: “This is a business transaction. You have to pay us whether you have partaken or not.” When he still refused, Woodard threatened to put pictures of the party online. The money was paid in full.

Woodard left Kristin Davis’ call-girl ring for Anna Gristina’s because Davis took more money — 50 percent, versus 40 percent — and the clients were worse. The last straw was “a major New York real-estate developer” who liked to wear women’s underwear. He was so fat that when he answered the door wearing only a thong, “you couldn’t see the thong at first.” He asked her to use sex toys on him.